


Venom In Your Veins

by childofhebe



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Language, Marvel Universe, Okay Everyone Is Hurt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Peter is a Little Shit, Superfamily (Marvel), Teen Peter Parker, Title Spoilers Everything, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15398370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofhebe/pseuds/childofhebe
Summary: Peter Parker finally had his life together. Pops had finally come home, Flash started to mind his own business, Spiderman was going great - slowly getting rid of all the dangerous weapons Vulture left behind… Hell, even a new Star Wars movie was coming out.But all it took for his life to find itself in shreds again… was a meteorite.One damn, black meteorite.





	1. The Rainbow before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I am back and alive and diving into another fandom then Yuri on Ice!   
> Shocking right? I know, I am the Shocker, I shock people. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> So, after a very bad battle with my writer's block, I finally rose above and word-vomited this. And I gotta say, I am immensely proud of this baby. I hope you would like it. <3

In their household, the mornings were always early. It didn't matter, whether it was a school day or not, their whole little family usually met in the kitchen for the first cups of coffee (or sometimes fourth cup in dad's case), hot chocolate and various kinds of breakfast, between the six and seven A.M. 

But for Peter, it wasn't unusual to wake up and visit the kitchen way sooner for a glass of water and some kind of overly sweet snack to calm his distraught nerves down. Nightmares were awful, but a common part of his life, long before the spider bite, long before he settled in the loving arms of his dad and pops. 

 

The kitchen was calming - quiet, static buzz of the fridge (it was probably impossible to hear for other people, the fridge was way too expensive to be heard - but Peter was able to hear it anyway), the cold air combined with the glass of cold water to cool his elevated body temperature and chase the bad sleepiness away, the dim light from large kitchen windows, that filtered light from the beautiful night New York panorama, so there was no need for Peter to switch on the strong fluorescent lamps - they could hurt his eyes this soon after waking up - or worse - cause him a sensory overload (that happened once or twice and it was not pretty). Plus, if it was one of dad's long nights, Peter was able to see the subdued light in the workshop from his kitchen stool, and after he finished his calming down, he could head down to the workshop to check on dad.

 

So yes, it was usual for Peter to hang out in the kitchen anytime in between the midnight and the said breakfast meetup. 

It was not usual to run into somebody there.

 

It was Saturday, three fifty A.M., when Peter jerked awake from the quite mediocre “falling from the sky wrapped in his own parachute” nightmare. This time, his brain was merciful enough and let him wake up as his body touched the water surface, sparing him from the “parachute heaving with water and drowning” part. A few minutes of heavy deep breaths, and he even dared to think for a second that his kitchen therapy won't be needed this time.

Then, just as the wild rearing of his heart in his ears blissfully subdued, he heard noises. Quite familiar, but nonetheless cringey noises. He sighed, chuckled, and reached for his headphones. No more sleep tonight.

 

An hour later, he dared to snoop down into the kitchen, his headphones still in (just in case). But, as he caught the sight of his pops standing by the counter, slowly chopping the fruit for the morning smoothie, another smile found its way on Peter's lips. Unusual situation, yes, but welcomed.

 

He pulled the headphones out, let them fall around his neck, and with few swift steps he hopped up on the kitchen stool. “Heyia pops!” Peter used a bright sing-song voice, grinning when Steve jerked. He tried to hide it, yes, but Peter noticed, and his smile grew into a grin. No wonder, Peter had a whole degree in sneaking up on the super soldiers.

 

Steve turned, a gentle smile on his lips, blue eyes shining. It was nearly impossible, how his pops embodied the “I woke up like this” shirts. Not even one of his hairs were out of the place, and Peter was certain he didn't comb them yet. Magical.

“Good morning Pete. Want some blueberries?”

 

“Sure!” Peter reached out and fished out a handful of berries from the offered jar. He stuffed some to his mouth immediately, the need for post-nightmare sugar dose finally subduing. “Where's dad?”

 

“Tony had to leave early today… F.R.I.D.A.Y. woke us up with a call from Pepper around an hour and half ago. Something about the meeting in California he missed yesterday. She sounded pretty pissed and I can imagine why… Apparently, your dad deleted the plan from F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s memory just so we could continue the Doctor Who marathon. Now he will be gone for the whole weekend and…”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

 

Steve's eyes perked up from where he finished chopping fruits to meet Peter's shit-eating grin. Even in the weak light, Peter was able to see how the tips of Steve's ears went red, along with the tiny area in the middle of his cheeks. Steve closed his eyes, faked a cough and went on. 

“Anyway, the weekend is just ours. Do you have anything interesting in mind that we could do together?”

 

“Umm…” Peter straightened his back and swallowed another blueberry. “It's not like we can continue the marathon without dad… I doubt he would be able to breathe through that after Ms. Potts bites his ears off.” Steve chuckled at that and piled the fruits into the blender. Peter waited until the smoothie was done to talk, but Steve beat him to it anyway.

 

“For the starters, want to go for a run with me? Hopefully, we can… how is that word of yours… troll someone again?” Steve offered with a gentle smile and lifted eyebrows, as he divided the smoothie into a sports bottle and two tall glasses. Peter reached for one of glasses, and before he took a sip, he shook his head. “Thanks pops but… I'm good.”

 

“You sure? I'm certain that even Spiderman has to work hard to stay in shape.”

Peter chuckled. “He does that enough on patrols, pops. Besides, you mostly don't have to do it either, you do it because it's a habit and because you enjoy it.”

 

Steve chuckled and ruffled Peter's messy curls with his free hand. “Okay tough guy. See you in two hours or so. Think hard about a way to spice up our weekend, and no, Star Wars marathon with Ned doesn't count. We could do it though, but it still doesn't count.”

 

Peter deflated, but the smile found its way back as quickly as it disappeared. “Course pops, see you soon.” 

 

Just as Steve packed the smoothie bottle into his small sports bag and exited the kitchen, Peter leaned over the counter to snatch the second glass of smoothie. 

“Dad, can I have your smoothie?” he whispered into the air with a sing-song voice and listened to the comforting buzz of a fridge for a while. Then, he nonchalantly shrugged and lowered the glass to his lips. “Silence implies consent.” 

 

Some things never changed.

 

_ “What's in here… Ooh, Cinnamon Toast Crunch! Dad, can I have your cereal?” Peter asked in a whisper, and as expected, nothing answered him. There was no way Tony could hear him down from the workshop, and last time he checked, Steve napped on a couch. So, there was nothing that stood between him and delicious cereal. Maybe except gravity. _

 

_ “Silence implies consent…” he murmured, as he pulled the box from the cupboard, and fumbled to open in with single free hand. He needed another hand to hold his web in - since the bite, he always stood on or hung from the ceiling during his kitchen raids. You could not do a heroic thief action and leave a footprint path on the ground after all! _

 

_ “Peter… Why are you on the ceiling?” a quite sleepy, but really familiar voice rang behind him, and it was so nice for Peter to hear it once again that he forgot to be surprised, or even to panic. Actually, the first time he heard it again a few days ago, it brought tears to his eyes. It kept catching up to him.  _

_ “It's a secret mission, pops!” He hissed seriously as he finally torn the box of cereal open, and with one swift flick of his free wrist webbed the box to the ceiling, in a way it dangled in front of his face. “If you want some, you have to keep quiet and…” _

_ “No, I’ll ask you a better question. HOW are you on the ceiling?!” _

 

_ That woke Peter up from a haze. He realized that he probably shouldn't have let this happen. To be more precise, dad told him that he definitely shouldn't. At least yet. _

_ Well, shit happens. _

 

_ “Uhh…” Peter let out a grunt, to give himself more time, and let go of a web in his hand, turning in the air and landing gracefully on his feet, facing pops. Steve stood in front of him, arms folded on his chest, expression neutral but eyes full of a confused storm. It made Peter gulp. The back of his neck impatiently tinged, his spidey sense predicting a storm coming. The storm that could tear his family apart once again. Peter, you idiot dumbass! _

_ “Well… You know, how stuff happens, you have no idea it happened but then you realize it happened and decide to face the consequences and take the responsibility and all of that, and suddenly realize that you probably should tell the most important people in your life but at the same time you shouldn't because damn it is not something that someone counted on happening, like, ever, so you decide not to tell them but they find out on their own and…” _

 

_ “Peter, you're rambling.” Steve interrupted him, trying very hard to keep the patience in his voice. Peter stopped talking and took a shaky breath. _

 

_ “I… I am…” Was his throat always this tight? _

_ “You are Spiderman.” Steve filled him in, and Peter could feel his throat constrict, his spidey sense went so crazy he was an inch from jumping back on the ceiling. _

_ “Yes.” Was all he was able to get out, before he crumpled.  _

 

_ “Pops, I am so sorry, I swear I was always caref-” _

 

_ “So, you're basically telling me, that I almost crushed my own kid with a boarding bridge?” _

 

_ Peter almost shook as the pain in Steve's voice went through his spine. He hung his head, no longer able to look pops in the eye. “I'm sorry pops.” _

 

_ Strong arms enclosed him, and Peter could feel all the horrid stress immediately leave his posture. He let himself get lost in Steve's hug. All too familiar - the smell, the nose and one of the hands buried in his curls, the alignment of their hearts (and Peter was sure of that one, he could hear Steve's stable heartbeat clear as a day). The hug he had received often in the past few days, but he was sure of the fact it would never grow old. _

 

_ “You can be damn sure that I will have a serious talk about this with your dad,” Peter heard pops mumbling into his hair, and he violently jerked. “W-what? No, I swear I didn't want to…” _

_ A hand soothingly stroked his curls, and Peter lifted his head, to look up at Steve's face. A small smile met him. _

_ “I am not mad, don't worry. I know I can't do much about it now…” Steve paused, clearly searching for words. “I am glad that you're safe.” _

 

Peter's phone let out a weak ding (yes, of course he was able to hear it make a soft noise in his room even though he was raiding the kitchen), so he grabbed a cereal box and hurried to check it. It was a message from pops.

 

**[05:04] Captain Pops:** What about we go fishing tomorrow morning? You know, dad has no patience for that, but I think our duo should manage just fine.

 

Peter grinned.

 

**[05:04] SpiderSon:** Sure thing!

 


	2. Lady Misfortune sees you perfectly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Rough night again?” Peter asked from a doorway. Steve looked at him - his adoptive son didn't look much better than he felt, with messy curls, slight shadows under his eyes and an Iron Man shirt with Hello Kitty sweatpants as a pajama. But, the ever-present smile was enough to soothe Steve's nerves.
> 
> “I guess you could say that,” he chuckled and slowly started to unfold the bandages on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh it already has been a month?
> 
> I am so terribly sorry guys
> 
> I hope the ass-long chapter makes up for it... just a little... It has a lot of Stony fluff, a lot of IronDad-SpiderSon a lot of CaptainPops-SpiderSon, which are good reasons to live for.
> 
> PS: This chapter has just a half properly beta-ed, so if I edit it later a little after my beta gets to read it whole, do not freak out. Peace <3

Since he came home roughly year and a half ago, Steve discovered that he was simply unable to sleep without Tony curled into his side.

It was definitely some kind of a heavy psychological issue, but Steve never mentioned it to anyone, not to Sam (who was an actual professional in dealing with heavy psychological issues), and definitely not to Tony. The last thing that Steve wanted to do was to bother Tony with silly things when he already had so much on his own plate. When Steve had already hurt and bothered him enough. He didn't have to sleep without Tony often, after all, so he could manage.

But, despite Steve's efforts of hiding it, one person knew. There was no way of hiding it from Peter - who was just as insomniac as Tony and Steve combined.

 

So, of course, Peter found him in the gym around 4 am, punching the hell out of a bag after another sleepless night. Tony was to come back in the evening (he survived the storm Pepper unleashed upon him - he FaceTimed with them yesterday evening and he seemed to be still in one piece), and Steve couldn't wait - he spent majority of the night curled into Tony's blanket in at least attempted sleep, but eventually he gave up and came down to the gym.

“Rough night again?” Peter asked from a doorway. Steve looked at him - his adoptive son didn't look much better than he felt, with messy curls, slight shadows under his eyes and an Iron Man shirt with Hello Kitty sweatpants as a pajama. But, the ever-present smile was enough to soothe Steve's nerves.

 

“I guess you could say that,” he chuckled and slowly started to unfold the bandages on his hands.

“Then, you're lucky we have the stuff to do,” Peter grinned and walked up to Steve, holding something behind his back. Just as Steve was about to back out (Peter's smile got really scary for a second), Peter jumped and swiftly placed something on Steve's head.

A fishing hat.

 

So, just as the first rays of sun appeared, they were heading out to start their fishing adventure.

 

“I see you remember how to do it, Pete. Good job,” Steve proudly nodded from his fisherman chair, as Peter tied his own hook to the end of the fishing line.

“Of course I do, it is not so long from the last time we were here,” the teen scoffed, but the wide, happy grin remained on his lips. Steve couldn't help himself but echo the grin. Happiness was always immensely contagious around his adoptive son. That is why it was hard not to immediately love him upon the first meeting - Steve with Tony became victims of the “Parker aura” syndrome roughly two years ago too. Steve knew that Peter's excessive intelligence was the first thing that impressed Tony about the boy, however, for Steve, it could be the said aura.

It certainly was one of the reasons why Steve missed Peter so much during his runaway.

 

The year he had to spend wearing an ankle monitor had been tiring. Although the area he could move around was quite big - the whole Stark Tower to be precise - the super soldier felt like a lion in the cage. Sure, the Tower was always full of people - workers and scientists and other personnel on the bottom floors, and his family in the upper, main apartment - but he wasn't really in the mood to interact with the former, and the latter…

Steve was able to see how Tony's shoulders tensed up every time he entered the room or when he touched him. He was able to recognize when Peter forced a smile, just because he didn't want Steve to worry about something he wouldn't be able to do anything about - such as Peter's bullies. It was not like Steve was able to go to school and talk to the principal, even if he remained as Peter's legal guardian. He felt something inside him painfully tug every time Pepper looked at him, and a shadow of resentment crossed her face - because she had been there when he hadn't, she had seen how miserable Tony was, and very likely she knew everything about what and how happened between them. And he couldn't just go out for a run to clear his head and try to find a resolution for any of this.

But, even with all of this on his plate, he was really grateful it turned out this way.

 

After Clint and Scott abandoned their little rogue group to rejoin their families, and Bucky was put back into the cryo in Wakanda, Steve had no idea what to do next. Of course, he pretended he did know - for Sam's and Wanda's sake. Natasha had always seen right through him, so she probably knew, but she never said anything. He gathered all bits of courage and sent a letter with a phone to his husband - the one he had lied to, terribly hurt him and abandoned him with no better reasoning than “we have to go”. They might have gone into strong hiding, but he scanned newspapers every other day and searched for any bits of information about Tony. He needed to know if and when Tony applies to divorce him. His heart would probably break into millions of shreds that day, but as soon as he had people depending on him, he would endure anything. And yet, he never found anything like that in media.

The info about Accords constantly changing and loosening, the degradation of Ross, the media were full of it. But Tony Stark seemed to disappear from the public's eye, operating with the people responsible for the changes in Accords from the shadows.

And his phone remained completely silent. Steve never dared to call the other number himself, he was determined to wait.

 

Then, when Accords were modified enough (so even Steve genuinely thought they could be good enough), a statement from the government came out. The partial pardons for Rogue Avengers, with the one year of house arrest at the Avengers Compound as the only consequence of their rebellious actions. House arrest could be disrupted for a time being by the immediate verdict of the UN, in compliance with a current version of Accords. Their little team sat down that evening and talked through pros and cons… And decided to take it. They were all tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of useless fighting.

On their way to the Compound, where they were supposed to arrive in the case they wanted to take the deal, something Steve never expected to happen happened. He received a text message.

 

 **Tony:** If you decide to take this treaty, you can come home, instead of a Compound. Think about it and let me know.

 

The message was so abrupt and impersonal it probably should hurt Steve. Instead, it made him smile for the first time in eternity.

He… could come home. To Peter. To Tony. His husband hadn't given up on him after all. It felt like a dream, like something he didn't deserve in a slightest. That's why he didn't even think about refusing the offer. He immediately replied.

 

 **Me:** We are already on our way to the Compound to sign the treaty. But I really want to come home if you really allow me to… Thank you

 

There was no response, and he didn't see Tony at the Compound. He wasn't present when they signed their home arrest treaties, all of the papers already had Tony's signature on them. While they gave others their ankle monitors (Steve was positive Wanda could remove it immediately with her magic, and Natasha could hack it somehow too, but, surprisingly, no one did anything against them), they let Steve sleep one night at the Compound, and the next day they escorted him to New York.

 

There was no need for Avengers to assemble for the whole, blissful year. Instead, they constantly FaceTimed or Skyped and played a lot of computer and console games, created a lot of upgrades on their tech and trained. It was a good year… But tiring.

 

“Deep thought, huh?” a young, 'trying not to laugh' voice suddenly breached through his thick inner wall, and Steve jerked. Looking up from his shoes, he met Peter's smug smile and blinked in confusion.

“W-why? How long was I…?”

 

“Long enough to catch a fish and let it escape, pops,” Peter exclaimed and Steve noticed his rod being slightly misplaced as if really a fish was pulling at it. He scoffed.

“You couldn't warn me earlier?”

“And where is the fun in that, pops?” Peter grinned. “Remember, we did the same thing to dad last time when we were here, and he fumbled with the phone instead of paying attention to his rod. And you were super uninterested into the fact that he was dealing with R&D department crisis.”

 

Steve lifted his eyebrows, a smug smile he had learned to use only after he met Peter coming on his lips. “Yeah, I remember that. It might be the reason why he still doesn't like fishing - it is 'boring and unproductive'...”

“...and 'fishes are little shits and they know the exact moment when to strike'...” Peter continued with a glint in his eyes,

“...because you simply 'can't give them your full attention'.”

Their joined, light laughter vibrated through the air around the whole creek and forest area around. And Steve could finally feel his soul slowly letting go of his heavy boulders of guilt, sadness, and regret. Everything was finally as perfect and peaceful as if always should be.

 

\---

 

_Dad had told him in advance. He had also told him to stay away from it until F.R.I.D.A.Y. notified him._

_But Peter interpreted the command his own way._

_That is how one Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers (or shortly, Peter Parker) happened to stick on the ceiling of the corridor, eavesdropping and occasionally peeking out on the main elevator lobby._

 

_One year of house arrest._

_After the Sokovia accords came into the picture, and Civil War between Avengers (as it was funnily named by media) happened, everything was a mess. Warrants, treaties, countless alterations of the accords, degradation of one infamous Thaddeus Ross (that, magically, facilitated every single process pro Avengers). Majority of the Rogue Avengers (another name with the origin in media) chose to stay in exile, claiming they felt safer that way, and simply waited for their moment to act. Others signed treaties, putting them on the “Retired” list and then back home to their families._

 

_In the last six months, Peter had seen his dad at the lowest. Probably not the absolute bottom, Iron Man himself went through a lot of nasty stuff in the past, but for the teen, it was painful to watch. Him maintaining his school, patrols, keeping his secret identity, not crumbling under his own pile of nightmares (especially right after the fight with Vulture) and making sure his dad ate on his bad days? That could throw off anyone. But not Peter. It was strange, and he was sure he should have some by all the stereotypes about kids his age, but not even one complaint crossed his mind. He probably knew, in his core, or rather in his spidey sense, that it was all going to be worth it in the end._

 

_And it was._

_It was so worth it almost made him tear up, as he laid his eyes on his pops, for the first time in what felt like forever (not to talk about the fact that their last interaction wasn't the most pleasurable one either)._

_Steve Rogers walked out of the elevator with two (Guards? Police officers? Soldiers? Basically guys in the important looking uniforms) behind his back. Peter's eyes darted to dad, who stood in the middle of the lobby, in one of his favorite casual attires - un-complete suit with a Black Sabbath t-shirt instead of the ordinary shirt. It was Peter who persuaded him to wear it, to bring some sort of comfort to him; however, Iron Man's shoulders were stiff, and his left hand was slightly shaking and curled into a fist as if his anxiety was making a salad out of his brain. Guards probably had no chance of saying - but Peter had, and he knew for sure that pops would see that too._

 

_One of the guards stepped forward, handing Tony a big, yellow envelope. His face twitched, and Peter frowned his eyebrows in sympathy. All of this tension, and on the top of that, dad is being handed something._

_“Thank you, gentlemen, I am going to take care now,” Tony said, the stiffness bleeding even into his voice, as he took the envelope. His grip was tight, paper immediately crumpled under Tony's near white knuckles. Guards immediately left without another word, and the tension became suffocating._

 

_After a few incredibly heavy seconds of two men just staring at each other, Steve huffed out a breath and smiled. It was a little bit strange for Peter - as timeless as pops always looked, now the rough time spent apart from his family could be seen. His hair was longer, there was little beard on his chin, his clothes relatively familiar but with the ugly unknown accessory strapped to his ankle. More little scars all over his arms, more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes - little subtle details, and together they screamed: “I went through a lot of shit while I was without you two”. But, as Peter noted, Steve's smile remained the same._

_“Hey,” was all Steve said, tilting his head, but still not daring to come closer to Tony. It was apparently a good decision because Tony just growled and closed his eyes, bringing his left hand to his face._

_“Do yourself a favor and do not “hey” me,” he mumbled._

 

_They slowly moved into the kitchen. Tony threw the envelope on the counter, and both men leaned against it._

_“I appreciate what you did,” Steve said, his eyes and voice soft, “I really do, Tony.” His hand slightly moved, as if to touch Tony's, but it froze just as quick as it started the move._

_“You mean treaties? Yeah, sure, a piece of cake,” Tony forced out. It hurt Peter, to see him so shaken and in denial and fighting with himself, but he couldn't do anything to help his dad this time._

_“That too, but I meant the fact that you never applied to divorce me,” Steve said while looking at Tony almost sheepishly._

 

_Tony huffed. “Maybe I just forgot to do it,” he made a pause, searching through Steve's face, but finding nothing else than a strange, peaceful sorrow. “But… It is more like I never thought about it. There always were just the ways how to save your asses, not to get rid of them.”_

 

_“No, no… Tony, I just couldn't believe that. Not the way you just took the care of the Accords or our pardons, because you are the most generous person out there. After everything I've done, after everything I've done to you… You still accept me here, you still signed the house arrest papers, and I…” Steve reached out again and touched Tony's hand. Tony didn't flinch or pull away, just watched Steve with a neutral expression. There was a beat of silence._

_“I am so sorry.”_

_“I know.”_

 

_They said it at the same time. Then, both of them smiled. Slowly, shyly, as if they were on the first date. It was like one of those charming moments from the romantic movie - however, Tony suddenly broke it when he turned his back on Steve._

_“But that doesn't mean I forgive you. Not entirely. You have to deserve it, and I can be a charity case only so much.”_

_Steve's smile remained. “I acknowledge that.”_

_“Oh, do you?” Tony walked around the counter, and faced Steve, placing them a foot apart. “I thought I wouldn't forgive you altogether. They almost took Peter away from me because of you. And you can trust me that if they did, you wouldn't be standing here right now.” Tony talked in a hushed tone, calmly, but his shoulders were stiff again, and his right hand desperately gripped his left wrist._

_Steve blinked in genuine shock. “I... didn't know that.”_

_“No one does, possibly not even Peter. I just wanted you to acknowledge the possible impact of your damn actions before you execute them. So the next time you want to go berserk, just think about it for a second. Or better - try to listen to me for a while. I do that a lot and I can say it's a great expe-”_

 

_Peter was surprised that dad thought he didn't know about the pesky articles about Tony losing his husband and possibly his adoptive son, nor about the inspections or long calls with Ms. Potts. Peter even knew that if they really did take Peter from Tony, Pepper offered herself to adopt him for the time being. Iron Man always had a plan, a backup plan, and the backup plan of the backup plan._

_Peter was so deep in thought about the matter, that he almost missed the legendary moment. First, Steve's one hand gently touched Tony's hands, uncurling the fingers from shaking left wrist and taking it into his own hand, massaging the skin gently. The bold move immediately let out a steam from Tony, his shoulders relaxed and a surprised huff escaped his lips. Steve gifted his husband a gentle smile, and his other hand found Tony's chin, tilted it upwards, and he leaned to finally kiss his husband._

_Peter almost let out a fujoshi squeal, but the thought of a possible fall from the ceiling stopped him. Tony even further relaxed into the kiss, placing his free hand on Steve's shoulder, pulling himself closer to the super soldier. Normally it was a little bit embarrassing for Peter to watch his parents make out, but now he was just really relieved it was happening._

 

_When they parted, their foreheads stayed connected, their hands still joined, their breaths heavy between them. It was Tony who said something first, a little out of breath, but definitely smiling._

_“God, I want to punch you so much now. Right in your perfect teeth.”_

_Steve chuckled and opened his eyes, suddenly concerned. “How's Peter?”_

_Tony refused to let him go, his eyes remaining closed. “Well, he can tell you himself, I am not a mailbox. F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Peter.”_

_“Right away, boss,” AI happily chirped, and Peter quickly crawled along the ceiling back into his own room, and he crossed the doorway just in time for the AI to pass along the message._

 

_Now it was his time to deal with the hard emotional outcome of meeting his pops for the first time in forever. But… Did he really want for it to be a hard emotional outcome?_

_No, probably not. He had a lot of those in the past._

_But he knew what he needed. The exact one thing he needed_ _to finally let the storm inside subdue._

_He bolted out of the room, this time on the ground, and headed straight for the kitchen. He didn't even stop when he saw Steve looking at him with wide eyes, as if he was some kind of marvel - he just charged forward, and jumped ahead, landing in Steve's arms with a loud shout. “Pops!”_

_Was it embarrassing for a 15-year-old kid to do this? Absolutely._

_Did Peter care? Not an inch._

_Not when Steve's arms encircled him firmly, and he did the same. Not when pops smelled just as he always used to, another thing that didn't change, and that soothed Peter's nerves. Not when Steve smiled and laughed, about how much stronger Peter had grown. Not when Tony mumbled under his breath: “You have no idea, Captain.” Steve probably couldn't hear, but Peter could. And not when Peter reached out, grabbed Tony's shoulder, and pulled him into the hug. Three of them, entwisted, at peace, together._

_Their family, finally whole again._

 

“Pops, I gotta go pee.”

“Don't get lost in the woods, Red Riding Hood.”

“Does that make you a Granny?”

“Does that make your dad a Hunter?”

“And Ms. Potts is the wolf?”

“Why would she want to eat you?”

“Because I don't want her to eat you! Wait… You ship Granny with the Hunter?”

“Of course I do, I've always had... You don't?”

“No, pops, my first childhood ship were Isabella and Phineas.”

Steve let in an exaggeratedly sharp breath, and Peter held out a hand in an attempt to stop the storm before it started. “As much as I would love to hear the hour-long ted talk on how my generation is corrupted, my bladder is about to burst. Save the thought pops, I'll be right back.”

He was pretty sure Steve threw something at him as he retreated, but he had no idea what it could be, and it didn't hit him anyway.

_It was seaweed._

 

It was all because of a nightmare he had that night. It was short but incredibly intense, and Peter woke up with a shout for the first time in months. The worse thing was, he couldn't remember a thing straight from the nightmare, but something made him think about the day pops came back home. Throughout the whole waking up process and fishing trip, he couldn't stop thinking about the incredible stress he could feel in dad's posture, and the sorrow mixed with helplessness Peter felt upon the thought it was inevitable and he couldn't help dad in any way from it. Or, what was better, the warm hug their little family shared, and how they never really let go of each other for the rest of the evening - they curled up together on the couch, ordered pizza and binge-watched their favorite episodes of Red Dwarf, falling asleep in one pile. This whole 'welcoming home' process was worth of every cramp they all inevitably had in the morning.

 

He was so content in the memory, that he bumped into a tree. He surely walked significantly further from the pops than he originally intended. Woods weren't so thick, there wouldn't be a problem in finding his way back, so the discovery just made him chuckle. His good mood persisted.

 

Until he, after all, noticed something odd.

The tree he bumped into looked really weird. Once it maybe was a beautiful, strong foliate tree, but now it was dying. Most of its leaves were gone, and the ones that remained were full of unnatural black veins. The bark was darker than it should be, hard as a stone, and covered in a black resin, bits of which stuck on the fabric of Peter's hoodie. Peter scrunched his face and took the hoodie off, careful not to touch the resin while folding it in his hands. He could later try and wash the hoodie in his web dissolver or something.

Next thing he noticed were the roots of the poor, clearly ill tree. One of them was almost aggressively inflated and bursting with the said black resin, buried just the halfway in the ground, the other end disappearing somewhere behind the thick bush.

“What the hell is this about…” Peter murmured, and his spidey sense suddenly kicked in, just in time to join his overwhelming scientific curiosity. So, of course, as soon as he finished his business, he followed the damaged root into the bush.

 

The root was violently broken by the jagged black stone, as big as Peter's two fists. The stone was comfortably nestled in the crater as if it was a meteorite. It would explain how it was able to break the root, but the crater was filled with fluffy moss and none of the plants around seemed to be affected in any way (well, except the tree itself) by the impact of a meteorite. It probably wasn't very interesting for NASA to search for since it was here for so long.

But it was sort of a big deal to Peter - it is not every day that he finds a freaking ancient meteorite…!

 

He pulled out his phone, snapped a couple of pictures, saved a location he was at into the notes, and just as he marveled on how horrible the impact must have been (it destroyed a whole tree!), he heard pops' voice calling after him.

“Peter! I was just joking about you getting lost, you really don't have to prank me.”

It tore Peter out of the amazement haze, and he chuckled. “That would be so not cool pops. I am here, looking at...something.”

“Tony just texted me that he already is on his way home!”

 

And upon hearing that, Peter immediately pounced out of the bushes and excitedly ran back to their fishing spot, the meteorite forgotten.

Peter didn't even notice that all of the resin mysteriously disappeared, leaving the tree blackened and dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does the tree-and-meteorite part feel rushed and slacked and all sorts of "lazy-writing" adjectives?  
> Abso-freaking-lutely.
> 
> Is it intentional?  
> Yup, don't worry.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter... I am already writing the third one, so I really hope the wait won't be so long this time :D You can yell at me in comments... Or just leave a feedback, any. I loved the massive response for the first chapter! It just kicks the motivation to the ozone. <3


	3. Collecting the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I watched the recordings. From The Baby Monitor Protocol. And… Peter froze. My mind simply can't grasp it. As if someone shut all of his senses down, he just stood there on an investigation, and then three assholes grabbed him from behind, held him down, and fucking stabbed the shit out of him. It's absolutely unbelievable, I know what Peter is capable of! And now three bums sneak on him behind his back. If he can't trust his senses, what can he rely on?” Tony turned his head up, to look Steve into the eyes. Steve let out a defeated sigh.

_ “It's not just the suit, Peter. It's you, it always has been you. And somehow, that's even worse.”  _

  


_ All of those loud noises around mixed with the pain Peter felt all over his aching body, the fog around his head thickened with every second and around a few minutes after he found the somehow safe hiding spot, he curled into a ball and desperately tried to reject all of the light and sound from the outside. What he did block, however, his brain kept replacing with memories and hallucinations. _

  


_ “It didn't work out, it's fine. You give me the suit back and we can forget that any of this happened.” _

  


_ The words pained Peter then, and they pained him still. The wrongness tore at his heart - the incredibly cruel words said by a man whose body trembled with anxiety. Back then Peter could feel tears stinging in his eyes, freezing on his hot cheeks, and he also could feel them now.  _

  


_ “I can't lose you too, Peter. I don't need that on my conscience. Not now, not ever. Do you understand?” _

  


_ He did. He nodded, chewed at his lip, trying to suppress another wave of tears. The still shaking hand squeezed at his shoulder, and then they somehow got home, where Peter stripped from his super-suit and left it on the kitchen counter. Peter knew he acted as if he was furious with dad when he withdrew into his room afterward and didn't talk with dad (or really anyone else) for a few days. But he didn't feel anger - in fact, he felt guilty and wretched. And if he was angry with anyone, it was with himself - for letting this to go so far. He lied to dad, put himself into a shit-ton of unnecessary danger only to prove something to someone… How could he be so stupid? Just a stupid kid, that was all Peter Parker ever was. _

_ Peter should stop with this playing a hero stuff and start acting like an ordinary teen he was, spider bite or not. Kids get bitten by mosquitos, and his mosquito happened to have two more legs. Nothing unusual. _

_ This monster of a thought train remained in his head until Homecoming night. _

  


_ The whole train abruptly stopped, when the white door opened in front of him. _

_ The immense shock of standing face-to-face with Vulture himself helped Peter to see the other side of things, the one he couldn't see with his head buried in the Sands of Guilt.  _

_ Out there, in his beloved neighborhood, were incredibly dangerous weapons. This man was their creator, their distributor. He might be responsible with them, but he can't be trusted - and if he can't, then people he sells them to definitely can't be. Little people had no idea those insane weapons were out there, and they were absolutely defenseless against them. But Peter knew they existed. He knew who was making them.  _

_ And he had the power to stop them. It was never a choice, it was his duty. _

  


_ His duty as the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. _

  


_ A few more psychological journeys and one plane crash later, here he was, curled in between two garbage containers in the back alley on Coney Island. He wasn't able to limp too far from the beach, but Peter's spidey sense thought this was enough of a safe space. Not too much light to remind him of the fire, the smell from containers cancelling out the taste of blood and sand in his mouth, and even though he could hear every wail of a siren all the way from the beach (his senses were on the paper edge), the steady pulse of his blood in his ears helped to distract him. _

  


_ The impenetrable haze came out of nowhere - immediately after the fight, Peter felt almost great. He webbed Toomes and cargo together, wrote a note to anyone who would retrieve it, and disappeared when the first police sirens announced themselves. His injuries were mediocre - a stab wound, lots of bruises and cuts, probably one or two broken bones, and a nice throbbing concussion. Actually, that might be where the haze came from. It hit Peter as he exited the beach - the light became too bright, the sound too loud, the pain too excruciating, and his need to hide escalated through the ceiling into the atmosphere. _

_ And it didn't let Peter go through the whole night, his mind slipping into the black waters of unconsciousness and back into the messy jumble of thoughts, hallucinations, and over-sensations. When he woke up and there was finally quiet in his head, the night sky already started to slightly brighten up with a sunrise. _

  


_ And the first clear thought Peter had after the haze was over, was about how he really, really wanted to go home. _

  


_ By some miracle, Peter's mask remained in the pocket of his hoodie, so he pulled it on and got up. Every step pained him, the strained muscles unforgiving even after his head somewhat recovered from the concussion. His healing factor kind of sucked, but Peter hoped that when it secured most of the main wounds, it would quickly help with the little pains too.  _

_ Peter took the subway, the few people that were in it stared at him suspiciously, but he ignored them. He understood - with his “crappy costume” and the aura of despair he probably looked like some Spiderman wannabe who got beat up in a back alley an hour ago, not the real deal. At least, no one approached him. _

  


_ As the sun fully rose on the sky, Peter entered Stark Tower. The night security paid him no mind as he slipped into the hidden elevator, they were probably too tired and too eager to end their shift. Peter could relate - he couldn't wait for a shower and a bed. But… He had things to do before he could settle. Assuming he would be allowed to settle.  _

  


_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't acknowledge him as he entered the apartment. That was odd, and it rose Peter's red flags. He probably shouldn't have come. He probably should leave, and let Tony find him on his own if he would want to. Peter's throat felt thin, but not from guilt - it was of disappointment. Peter knew that he violated every single promise, that he broke Tony's trust, and that he could have died and caused a ton of trouble and worries to his adoptive dad.  _

_ But this time, Peter knew he had to do it. He wasn't able to simply sit and do nothing when his world fell apart around him - he did that once, and he refused to do it ever again. He was sorry, but he didn't regret what he did. If that makes any sense. _

_ The only light in the apartment was coming from the workshop, but the sound concentration was next to none. Peter pulled the mask from his face in case it muffled some sounds, and he really couldn't hear anything. He slowly sneaked down the stairs to the workshop, careful to keep himself in the shadows, and cautiously peeked through the glass door into the workshop. _

  


_ Tony Stark sat on the ground with his back leaned against the main workbench, curled up, probably asleep. There was a tale-telling half-filled bottle of scotch on the workbench and muted streams of the multiple newscasts playing on the screens. Peter hesitantly moved forward, silently pressing out the entry code to the lock, and the door opened with a soft click. The noise didn't disturb Tony from sleep, so Peter continued until he crouched next to the sleeping man. _

  


_ One, gentle touch on dad's shoulder did the trick. Tony violently jerked, his eyes flew open and immediately latched on Peter, who desperately tried to keep steady, calm face. Peter withdrew his hand and whispered: “You shouldn't sleep here, you know.” _

  


_ Tony stared at his adoptive son with the expression of a pure shock, barely blinking, long enough for Peter to get extremely uncomfortable under the intensity. Just as he was about to tear his eyes and look down into his lap where his fingers nervously fiddled the whole time, Tony sucked in a sharp breath and charged forward. _

_ Peter expected everything, from the cold shoulder to the slap (and neither of his adoptive parents had never, ever slapped him before), but he didn't expect a crushing hug. As Peter almost got crushed in dad’s arms, he realized that they haven’t hugged since before the ferry incident. The thought pained Peter almost as much as the stab wound, currently getting pressured with dad’s shoulder. Peter bit his tongue and buried his face in dad’s neck. _

  


_ His stab wound acted up once more when dad grabbed both of his shoulders, yanked them apart, and the seriousness mixed with heavy concern in dad’s eyes scanned Peter's face. “Are you alright?” _

  


_ “I… I think so, yeah,” Peter blurted, trying very hard not to scrunch his face in pain. If he wasn’t alright now, he definitely would be after a shower, sleep and maybe a nice meal. He didn't want to bother his dad with such a long answer now. _

  


_ “Great, because I’m about to kill you, and I would hate someone else starting the drill without me.” _

_ The answer, so casually said, while he still could see the deep wrinkle of concern on dad's face, made Peter crack a smile. “That’s one hell of a death then.” _

  


_ Tony let out another sharp breath, and then Peter was getting crushed in a hug again. “If you do that again. If you go and scare me like that again I swear I will put a firewall around your room. No more vines. Ever. Again. Are we clear?” _

_ “We are.” Peter murmured into dad’s shirt. Dad probably meant it, and he had every right to mean it, and the punishment he picked was a horrid one.  _

_ “And you’re fucking grounded until I am able to lower my emergency meds dose, plus a week to make sure I wouldn’t have to increase them straight away,” Peter could feel the trembling hand waving itself into his greasy hair. He didn’t talk back, only gave a little nod and his smile widened. _

  


_ “And if you think you are going to use your crappy costumes now, you’re absolutely wrong. You are handing them over and I am burning them in the grill. And if you try to remove the tracker or hack poor Karen again, you’re super dead. Are we crystal clear?” _

  


_ The last one surprised Peter. He slowly lifted his head, facing the serious face of his dad with wide eyes. _

_ “Does that mean…?” _

_ Tony closed his eyes, and the third sharp breath came out. There was a shadow of resignation written on his face, but also a pride that warmed up Peter’s heart. “Peter… I was terribly wrong about you. About your intentions, and your motivations. I guess I have completely forgotten about everything you told me when I found out about your little spider secret, and I panicked when you told me you wanted to be like me. Just… Don’t. No one wants to be me. Ninety percent of the time I don’t want to be me. That’s why I said that I wanted you to be better. I never realized… That you already were so, so much better.” _

  


_ Tony’s face reminded of a whole emotional palette now, from pride and joy and nostalgia to resignation and sadness and fear. Trembling fingers strayed into Peter’s hair again.  _

_ “I can’t stop you from this, because even though you look like you absolutely have no idea, you know what you’re doing. I should put trust in you, definitely not the stupid restrictions. Such a Howard thing to do. My point is… I’m sorry. You were in so much more danger out there fighting that guy then you could be with Karen safely monitoring you, honestly, I feel like a dipshit for taking it…” _

  


_ Oh no, not the tears. Peter had to quickly do something about tears because when dad starts crying, he would definitely start too. “Dad, please. You don’t have to be sorry… I know you tried to protect me. I really get it… I am sorry for worrying you so much. And… Thank you. You didn’t have to take me in and place your trust in me after what I've done, but… Thank you.” _

  


_ Tony’s next breath suspiciously sounded like a sob. He gave Peter another hug, burying his face in the teen’s curls. “I love you, squirt.” _

_ “I love you too, dad.” _

  


_ “And now show me that wound on your shoulder or my nerves will fucking combust if I have  to watch you scrunch your face once more.” _

  


“Dad?”

“Peter, your vitals are going havoc. Are you alright? Karen, scan for any injuries and technical damage,” dad sounded worried, and through the phone, Peter could hear the loud shuffling and beeping, as dad typed into his screens, loading the ones monitoring Peter's suit.

“...'m fine, I told Karen… not to call…not an emer...gency… I just...sit here… Somethin' wet…”

There was a pause. “Is it water or blood?”

Peter looked down. It was dark, but he could recognize the fabric of his suit carrying the much darker red than it should. “P-Probably...blood.”

“Does it happen to be your blood?” dad now sounded extra worried, and Karen's calm voice said: “Scans finished. Sending them to F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

There was a pause, as dad went through the scans. Peter frowned, Karen gave him away again, dad's going to worry even more now...

“Jesus fuck Peter, three stab wounds ARE an emergency!” Tony yelled and it caused Peter's aching head flare with pain. “Shh! No… loud…” He breathed out and laid down, unable to hold his weight in the sat up position anymore.

“Did you just shush me? Are you serious? I'm coming for you, don't you dare move. Breathe, I'll be there soon. Max one minute. Remember, steady breaths Spider-Baby, daddy's coming. Karen, talk to him, he can't pass out.” 

Peter listened to the familiar whirring in the phone, as the Iron Man suit closed around his dad. Then, there was Karen's calm voice once again, asking him about school. 

“School's good… Good. There's this...new guy… Eddie… He's kind of a...douchebag… Flash's type. They...hang out.”

“And what about Liz? Any message from her?” Karen asked gently. Peter always thought she probably had some emotions, because of the way she was able to let a concern or laugh into her voice. Now she just talked in a steady, calm way, and that alone reminded Peter to take steady breaths.

“N-no… She's in...Oregon, you know… If I wanted to… sling to...Oregon… Wow, that would be...a lot of webs.”

Then, an Iron Man suit landed near him. Peter was too tired, on edge and in pain to even jerk from the sudden surprise. His spidey sense was so overloaded it didn't even warn him.

“Okay, there we go. Shit, that's a lot of blood. F.R.I.D.A.Y., wake up Steve and get the MedBay ready. Alert anyone qualified and discrete and available enough to sew my baby up. Peter, don't you dare to close those eyes, I can see you. Talk to me. What was that about Flash again?”

Dad took him up the bridal style, which had Peter hissing at the pain, and then they were flying. Despite his slurred words about Eddie Brock, the new guy, who had already shoved him into the three different lockers in two weeks, Peter got consumed by the darkness of his own mind the moment they landed on the tower. 

  


\---

  


When he woke up, he was at the MedBay. The steady beeping of his heart monitor and the dim white light came to him first. Then the dripping of the IV, the void instead of the crippling pain. They must've pumped him full of drugs. A fluffy white blanket covered his body, the majority of which was patched up with thick bandages. Especially his belly and lower chest - the places where he got three swift strokes with a knife.

His brain felt incredibly foggy and slow, but somehow, he was able to recall how the fight went. To sum it up - it went badly.

  


He had been searching for these guys for forever - the rest of Vulture's gang, all of those other alien weapon crafters and sellers. He couldn't let it go after the arrest of Toomes - not when he knew the weapons are still out there somewhere, stashed and waiting for irresponsible hands to fall into. So he searched, scanned, spied, and after months, he had a solid list of their possible evil lairs and storages. All he wanted to do was to check them all out, and then go to dad, so he can call FBI or S.H.I.E.L.D., or whoever was handling this sort of things. That was their agreement with dad.

  


The first two warehouses on the list were mostly food and clothes storages, but after Karen scanned whole places through and through, in both of them he found a box or twelve of alien weapons. He brought them all into the corner, threw a few web grenades on them and covered them with sheets. He could get to them back later.

  


The third warehouse, however, was a full evil lair. Peter had found ten guys in there, repairing weapons and trying them out on the targets in the far corner or just chilling on couches - so domestic. Peter would hate to break the atmosphere, so he decided to just slowly back up, but then… His spidey sense completely betrayed him.

  


Someone caught him from behind, yanked his hands behind his back and kicked his legs from under him. “Look, I've caught a spider!” he yelled out, and multiple voices followed, and soon he was facing two gentlemen, while three of them held him down. 

“What a pretty spider, we should keep it… Call the others, this is going to be fun. We maybe could pin it to the noticeboard, like kids do it with pretty butterflies, what do you say?”

Peter was so shocked he didn't fight back. His spidey sense was utterly quiet. As if there was absolutely no danger, and he was curled up in his bed watching Game of Thrones on his laptop. 

The blade swiftly dove thrice into his front, and he couldn't help but yell out in the searing pain. The guys just laughed and gripped him tighter, both of his shoulders close to dislocating. “That was for Toomes,” the guy with the knife murmured, and laid a hand on his head, gripping the fabric of the mask. “Let's look at your whiny face before others beat it into the pieces.”

  


That finally fired up Peter's engine. He drew his hands with the full force, sending two out of three guys flying, and the last one was down from him soon after. The guy with the knife got a punch into the face. Adrenaline in Peter's blood was immensely high at the moment, he could've sworn he heard it whisper actual words in his ears - words like “kick them dead” and “shitbags, how dare they”. But Peter quickly retreated on the safe, high and far roof before the reinforcements could come. 

  


Now, his spidey sense was back, relaxed after the vacation that almost cost Peter his life. “What the hell, man…” he whispered tiredly and closed his eyes. This was never, ever supposed to go like this. Now, dad would really put up that firewall.

  


\---

  


When Steve entered the MedBay, he wasn't surprised to find Tony sitting by their son's bed, holding the teen's hand by his lips and whispering sweet nothings. Peter was asleep again - even though F.R.I.D.A.Y. has told them about Peter waking up four hours ago (of course he would wake up during the ten minutes no one was in the room with him), he passed out again after a while. Tony didn't leave his side again, not even for a pee pause. Steve was worried. 

He came up to his husband, gently gripping his shoulders and massaging them in slow, precise movements. Tony immediately relaxed under his hands, but he didn't let go of Peter's hand. “Calm down,” Steve told him calmly, “If he was awake before, that means he is fine. Now he's probably just getting drugs out of his system.”

  


Tony let out a sigh and hung his head. “I know,” he whispered and pressed Peter's hand to his forehead. It was hard to watch and listen to Tony's obvious pain, so Steve just closed his eyes and carried on the massage.

  


“I watched the recordings. From The Baby Monitor Protocol. And… Peter froze. My mind simply can't grasp it. As if someone shut all of his senses down, he just stood there on an investigation, and then three assholes grabbed him from behind, held him down, and fucking stabbed the shit out of him. It's absolutely unbelievable, I know what Peter is capable of! And now three bums sneak on him behind his back. If he can't trust his senses, what can he rely on?” Tony turned his head up, to look Steve into the eyes. Steve let out a defeated sigh. 

“I don't know Tony… Maybe he was sick, and zoned out. Maybe he had a headache. We wouldn't know until we ask. Don't work yourself up, dear,” Steve said slowly and carefully, keeping up his massage. 

“He was just laying there, incoherently mumbling, in the pool of his blood…” 

That wasn't good - the clear signs of the coming anxiety attack. Steve quickly let go of Tony's shoulders, to crouch next to his chair and take his hands into his own. “Hey, look at me.”

Yes, there were tears in Tony's eyes. Steve soothingly caressed his husband's cheek, and then carefully tilted his head to look at Peter.

“Look at him. He is alright, he is breathing, he will wake up soon. You saved him,” Steve told Tony in a hushed tone. Then, he smiled. "Let's face it - you wouldn't be this far gone if it was anyone else laying there. Not even me," Tony huffed, the annoyance distracting him from the panic for a moment, and that only widened Steve's smile, "You're panicking just because it's Peter. But I'm telling you, that our spider will be alright."

  


Then, as if he had heard him, Peter slowly opened his eyes and let out a soft moan. Tony jerked and gasped, swiftly pouncing on Peter and wrapping his hands around the teen's shoulders.

“Wha-What are you doing?” The teen asked and let out a broken smile.

“Getting rid of a panic attack, dumbass,” Tony replied, his voice muffled by Peter's blanket. Steve smiled and reassuringly patted Tony's back. 

“You did give us quite a scare, Pete. How do you feel?” Steve's voice was laced with healthy concern, as opposed to Tony's mother-hen grip on Peter.

“I… I've been better,” the teen replied, his voice rough. “Nothing hurts, but I'm all fuzzy…”

Steve nodded and outstretched his hand to ruffle Peter's curls. “Of course you are, you are full of drugs. Your healing factor had already kicked in, but without drugs you would probably be in a lot more pain,” Steve gently tugged at Tony, and his husband pulled himself away from Peter with something that suspiciously sounded like a sniffle.

“Rest, Spider-Baby, we'll have the talk later,” Tony mumbled, his left hand still slightly shaking. Peter frowned, suddenly fully awake, and Steve knew that they would be having the talk now. “Am I...in trouble?”

Steve quickly shook his head. “No, don't worry. We just don't know what happened to you there. Karen had recorded everything, and it seemed as if your…”

“...my reflexes turned themselves off completely?” Peter finished with the lace of despair in his voice. Steve grimaced and nodded.

“Before you ask… I have no idea why. Or how. Or…”

“We don't too. We found nothing unusual in your blood, that's why we thought that something happened to you during the day and it got to you psychologically. Your dad even phoned Ned about it, didn't you, love?” Steve smiled and squeezed Tony's shoulders. Billionaire mumbled something about telltales and then sighed. 

“We have to ensure that whatever that was, it won't happen again. I’ll strengthen Karen's motion and sound sensors, and I'll have you train with Natasha and pops again after you get better,” Tony promised and laid his left hand on Peter's. Steve noticed that it wasn't trembling anymore. “By the way, great job with finding the weapons, squirt. Natasha, Sam, and Rhodey are taking care of them as we speak. But those assholes abandoned that third warehouse. You can bet I will put their heads on spikes when we catch them.”

  


Peter smiled and the happy sparkles appeared in his eyes again. Steve's smile returned upon the sight, and when he heard the amused huff, he knew Tony was smiling too.

  


\---

  


The quiet pulse of the blood in Peter's ears never quite went away. Was it there all the time? He couldn't remember. It was lulling, comforting, natural. 

And the mysterious black resin from the hoodie hung over Peter's chair was gone. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I could make it sooner this time :3 What do you think of the chapter? A bit angsty, building up the necessary tension... But family comfort was there to save the day! Oh, I love Super Family so much <3
> 
> I am already working on chapter four, and I hope I would be able to finish it before the school starts :3
> 
> My wonderful beta: [Maddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madz04)

**Author's Note:**

> So? Any thoughts? I am immensely grateful for any kudos or comment you leave me, I would love to hear what you have to say! <3


End file.
